


His Baby

by MacandLacy



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Autistic!John, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Freddie considers John to be his son, Gen, M/M, MamaBear!Freddie, NO age-play or infantilism....just pure silliness., OverProtective!Freddie, fluff!, protective!Roger, protective!brian
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-03-30 02:04:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 12,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19032517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MacandLacy/pseuds/MacandLacy
Summary: “Freddie saw John 100% as not only forever a baby, but *his* baby”.  Snippets of life with Freddie as the World’s Best Papa to his baby brother/sort-of-adopted-son, John.Fluff & Humor only!  (no age-play or infantilism).  John has autism and Freddie is an overprotective mama bear.Inspired by the stories by “LetMeEntertainYou” and their amazing Tumblr page “disabled-queen-hc”, who has graciously given me permission to play in this universe.





	1. It's not even a real date....

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LetMeEntertainYou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LetMeEntertainYou/gifts), [HCShannon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HCShannon/gifts), [mtnsam](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mtnsam/gifts), [Wiggles91](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wiggles91/gifts), [LadyOfLoriens](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyOfLoriens/gifts), [Rogerina_Taylor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rogerina_Taylor/gifts).
  * Inspired by [They Didn't Know He'd Be Their Favorite](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18839245) by [LetMeEntertainYou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LetMeEntertainYou/pseuds/LetMeEntertainYou). 



It basically started the minute John officially joined the band.

Freddie had murmured something to Brian about were they *sure* they should subject this innocent child to the world of rock and roll, but before Brian could answer, Freddie was running over to John, giving him a hug and reassuring the teenager that he was welcomed to Queen.

At first, it was not so noticeable, mostly because Brian and Roger also looked after their youngest band mate. None of the men had a brother, and John immediately took on that role in the eyes of the older three men. Brian, an only child, had quickly taken to Freddie and Roger as brothers, and the other two in turn each had just one younger sister who they loved, but they had all secretly wished also for a younger brother to pal around with. In no time at all, the three older members of Queen had adopted a little brother that they were determined to protect. In their very firm opinion, John needed looking after not so much because of his autism (he was more than capable of taking care of himself) but simply because he was their baby brother. Enough said.

So, it was common to find the older bandmates fussing over their little brother, making sure he was comfortable during interviews, had a voice in all band discussions, and the like. John needed protection, they all agreed.

Roger would later reflect that the turning point was when they all moved in together and in their first flat, Freddie and John shared a room. Freddie imposed a bedtime on the still teenager, and John rarely objected. He also let Freddie pick his clothes; at first for performances, but pretty soon Freddie was dressing John most days, making sure he had brushed his teeth, and combing John’s long hair at night to help him relax. Even after they moved into a house where they each had their own bedroom, Freddie made sure John was the room next to his, and continued the fussing. John was a right Saint, in Roger’s opinion, to tolerate the hovering that Freddie was perfecting.

Okay, so maybe Roger had been the one to give John a curfew on school nights and tended to snarl at anyone who got near John in public, but that was just being sensible. There were all sorts of weirdos out there and John needed someone to look after him. If Roger scared away anyone who even glanced at John when they were in a pub, well, then, that person was clearly a creep and had no business being around their innocent John.

It wasn’t Roger’s fault that John didn’t date; no one had passed Roger and Brian’s rather elaborate list of requirements, which included a background check. Brian was also in charge of safely driving John to and from school and any other necessary appointments to make sure their little brother was safe from creeps.

Brian and Roger were protective, of course, but Freddie was the one who turned it into full-blown parent mode.

The singer blew on John’s tea to make sure it wasn’t too hot (a legitimate action, given John’s sensitive taste buds). He also cut up John’s food on occasion. He dressed John. He made John check in with him when the bassist was at school.

And he made sure he knew where John was every minute, and who he was with.

It didn’t get odd until a classmate of John’s came by to pick up John for a class study session. Everyone was in full protective mode, Brian using his height to loom over the young man, and Roger making a point of breaking an old drum stick with his bare hands and commenting about which bones in the human body were the equivalent thickness of said drum stick. The hint was lost on no one.

“So,” Freddie demanded, arms crossed as he scowled down at the poor boy. “What exactly are your intentions toward my son?”

“Your…son?”

“Answer the question, dear.”

The man blinked. “Um….going to study group?”

“And returning him, of course.” Freddie was full on glare, his foot tapping in annoyance.

“Yes, of course?”

“And of course, you have a clear driving record?”

“I---yes.”

“Let’s see your license.” Freddie snapped his fingers, and the man meekly handed over his wallet.

“Alright, *Phil*,” Freddie said, after clearly memorizing the name and address and checking the ID thoroughly for any signs of fakery. “What time will you have John home?”

“I---don’t know?”

“His bedtime is 11:00. Have him home no later than 10:00. 9:30 is better. Understood?” Behind Freddie, Roger broke another drumstick meaningfully.

“Yes, of--of course,” poor Phil stammered. “9:30 sounds good. Perfect, actually. We will be back before 9:30.”

“I’m so glad we understand each other.” Freddie looked up as John came into the living room. “John, dear, don’t forget to call me when you get there, and call again so I know when you are leaving. Your curfew is 9:30 since it’s a school night.” He handed John change for the pay phones outside the library, and frowned at John’s neck. “It’s chilly, go get your scarf.” While John went back to fetch his scarf, Freddie took a photo album off the shelf and thumbed through to find a picture.

“This is me, school boxing champion,” Freddie said to Phil, showing him the picture, his tone full of warning. “And yes, I keep up with it.” Phil blinked in fright, message fully received. “Oh, and *Phil*, when you bring John back home, you will of course walk him to the door. He is not a package that you dump at the curb.”

“I---I understand,” Phil managed to squeak. 

“Good. I’m so glad we had this conversation. I’m certain you will look after my child, or we will be having another little chat and it won’t be nearly as pleasant.”

“Yes, Sir,” Phil said meekly. “See you by 9:30, Sir.”

Freddie nodded, his expression still cold as ice. “Good answer.”


	2. Chapter Two:  A special day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John goes missing in Japan, and Freddie about causes an international incident. Good thing John can take care of himself!

John had carefully planned this whole adventure. He knew from the schedule that while Freddie and Roger did interviews, he and Brian had free time for a few hours, and he couldn’t think of a better way to spend it than on his quest. It might be more difficult in Japan, but John had no doubt he would be successful. He had looked stuff up before they left England, and even had carefully written out what he wanted with the help of an English-Japanese dictionary.

So, while Brian napped, John blithely went downstairs to the lobby and found one of the translators assigned to Queen on their Japan tour. A few words of explanation, and they were off.

It honestly never once occurred to him to leave a note. John wasn’t required to leave notes at home, not understanding it was only because Freddie tracked his every move in England (easy to do since they all lived together). 

It honesty never once occurred to Freddie to make John leave a note. They were in Japan, for Heaven’s sake – where would he go without Brian, Roger, or himself? Freddie and Roger returned to their suite to find a napping Brian and no sign of John.

At first, they thought he might be in the hotel. But a through search reveled no sign of John.

They all freaked.

Brian was on the phone with the British embassy, hyperventilating. Roger was screaming at the hotel security, asking what the Hell were they thinking in letting John just *leave*? Freddie was ready to cause an international incident. 

“What about the Royal Marines?” Freddie screamed to a record company agent. “Get them to search! Oh my God, where is a recent picture of John? We need to make missing posters! He was wearing a yellow shirt, and blue jeans, he has long auburn hair----" He was digging through his wallet, looking for a picture of John in the yellow shirt that was his favorite.

In the midst of the chaos, John calmly appeared back in their suite. 

“Nani ga okotte iru?” asked the translator, thoroughly confused.

John shrugged. “Shiru ka?” he sighed. “Sumimasen, karera wa chotto okashīdesu.”

“John! Baby!” Freddie shrieked. He knocked over several people in his mad rush to John, pulling his son into a fierce hug. “Baby, oh my God, where were you? What did you do? Don’t *ever* wander away, you understand? You should have waited for one of us. You should have left a note. You should have—”

“I couldn’t leave a note, it was a surprise,” John said logically.

“A surprise my heart can’t take!” Freddie wailed. “Baby, from now on, you don’t go anywhere without one of us – preferably me – do you understand? Especially when we are on tour. Never leave the hotel without me, Brian, or Roger, alright?”

“Alright,” John said agreeably. 

It took a while, but finally everyone calmed down – especially Freddie – and the police and marines were called off. John apologized for not leaving a note, and agreed he would in the future – assuming he ever left a hotel without one of them again, which he promised he wouldn’t. 

Later, Freddie pulled John aside for a very serious talk. After a lecture about stranger danger and promising again to never leave a hotel without a fellow bandmate, John beamed as he handed Freddie a card.

“I know you love Japan,” John explained happily. “So, I wanted to give you a card in Japanese while we were here. I asked the lady to take me to a card store!”

Freddie accepted the card, noting it was an elegant origami bright yellow, and opened it.

“Shijō saikō no chichioya ni. Watashi wa, anata o aishiteimasu!” he read slowly, able to figure out the pronunciation but not the words. “Happī chichi no hi!” He looked at John with a puzzled expression.

“To the best father ever,” John translated. “Happy Father’s Day!”

Freddie felt his heart absolutely, positively, melt. It was too good to be true. He didn’t even try to blink back tears, and enfolded John in a hug. His baby boy had given him a special card on this day that he would treasure for the rest of his life.

Maybe next time they went out, he should dress John in overalls, because the straps would be easy for Freddie to grab if John started to wander off.

***********************************  
***********************************  
***********************************  
Translator: “What is going on?”

John: “Who knows? Sorry, they are a little crazy.”

Yep, John picks up Japanese! He is one smart cookie 😊 

Japanese translations are from Google. I will gladly correct if anything is wrong!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts and requests open! You can comment here or contact me at Tumblr: MacandLacysPlace.


	3. We have a pautra!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We learn where Freddie gets his paternal instincts from....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos, bookmarks, and comments for this silly story! I am still happily accepting prompts :-)

To give credit where credit was fully due, it was Jer who put the pieces together first. She had suspected something given the way Freddie talked about John, but it was completely obvious when Freddie introduced John to her.

“John, dear, this is my Mum. You can call her Dādī. Mama, this is John.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you dear,” Jer said, not blinking an eye. “Freddie has told me so much about you.” 

“Thank you, Dādī,” John said politely. He handed the lady a bunch of flowers. “These are for you. Thank you for having me to Freddie’s birthday party.”

“Well of course, dear, you were the first one I made sure was invited. How else should it be?” She glanced up as her husband entered the room. “Dear, this is John.”

“Dādā,” Freddie prompted John.

John smiled and held out his hand. “Hello, Dādā,” he said politely.

Bomi Bulsara exchanged a glance with his wife, who had wisely warned him ahead of time. It was good that Bomi was a patient man who had long ago accepted it was best to just go along with whatever his wife, son, and daughter wanted. He knew he didn’t stand a chance against them.

“Welcome, John,” he said warmly, shaking the young man’s hand.

“Thank you, Sir.”

They made small talk while Freddie and John helped bring chairs out for the birthday party. Kash came wandering downstairs and Freddie quickly introduced her to John.

“Your Māsī Kash,” Freddie said to John.

“It’s so nice to finally have a bhatrījā,” Kash enthused, giving Freddie a wink.

“Oh, I’m not really your bhatrījā,” John blushed. “But it is nice to have a sort of māsī.”

The Bulsara’s all raised their eyebrows. “John, you speak Gujarati?” Bomi asked in amazement.

“Just a few words,” John demurred. “Freddie has taught me some, and I knew it was polite to learn a little since I was coming to your home.”

Jer beamed in pride. “That is so sweet of you, dear. Now, come, tell me about school while you help me in the kitchen before the guests start to arrive.”

The party was a hit with everyone, relaxed and fun. Freddie groaned when Jer got out the photo albums, but tolerated it with a smile. Freddie and John had come early on the bus, but rode back to their flat with Brian and Roger.

“So,’ Bomi cleaned his throat as he settled in with the evening paper after all the guests had departed. “We have a red-haired English pautra now.” Truthfully, he was rather pleased at the idea.

“John’s hair is auburn, dear, not red,” Jer corrected mildly.

“I love his hair,” Kash sighed. “Can I date him?”

Bomi gave his daughter a pointed look. “You are not dating until you are seventeen.” He picked up his paper again. “And neither is John,” he added with a huff.

“He’s nineteen,” Kash corrected. 

"Really? He looks about fifteen,” Bomi protested. He looked at his wife, who smiled and nodded. “Well, that does answer my question about why his family would let a child join a rock band.”

“His family is just his Mum and one younger sister,” Jer said gently. “His father died when he was just a boy. His Mum and sister live up north, so John doesn’t see them a great deal.”

Bomi considered that for a moment. “Well, then, it’s good he has us and Farrokh,” he said. He didn’t approve of everything his son did, but Bomi had no doubt that Farrokh would protect this lad that he had so obviously taken under his wing. Bomi highly approved of that. 

“Farrokh will make sure John comes to all family dinners and events,” Jer said, and Bomi nodded in approval.

“Since he’s sort of family can I date him?” Kash persisted.

“Not until you are both seventeen,” Bomi said firmly, now distracted by the latest cricket scores. He was finished with this discussion.

“Mama!” Kash protested. “My bhatrījā and I are both going to die old maids. All my friends date, and I bet so do John’s!” Bomi frowned at the term ‘old maids’.

“Perhaps a group date, with some friends from school and your brother chaperoning,” Jer suggested, acting the mediator between her husband and daughter. “I will talk to Farrokh. I think John may like that idea as well. He is quite shy, poor thing. A small group date to a movie might boost his confidence a bit.”

Kash jumped up, running for the phone. “I’m going to tell all my friends that I get to call dibs on John since he’s family.”

A week later, Freddie obligingly chaperoned a group of three giggling teenage girls and three nervous teenage boys to an afternoon movie. He was later rated as “really cool” by most of them, although he did earn a “major drag” mutter from his sister when he insisted on sitting between John and Kash. In fact, Freddie lined up all the girls on his left side and all the boys on his right, making sure nothing inappropriate would happen in the theater under his watch. If anyone wanted to hold hands, they could hold his hands, thank you very much.

*************************************************************************************  
Gujarati translations are from Google. I will gladly correct if anything is wrong!

Dādī – Grandmother

Dādā – Grandfather

Bhatrījā – Nephew

Māsī – Aunt

Pautra - Grandson


	4. Helicopter Parent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beware the wrath of a parent scorned…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happily accepting prompts and requests. The next few chapters will be from reader prompts. Thank you!

“What sort of school doesn’t have Parent/Teacher conferences?” Freddie asked, aghast.

“A university,” Brian muttered from his spot on the couch.

Freddie slammed down a copy of John’s latest grades and schedule on the table. “That is absurd,” he protested. “How do they expect the children to remember everything? And they don’t consult with parents?”

“Maybe because the students are adults and you're not his parent?” Roger suggested.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Freddie stood and started toward John’s room where the youngest band member was studying. “John, darling, what is this note from the university about graduating early? Did we discuss this?”

***

“I’ve been waiting for you, Professor Smyth,” said a deep voice from the shadows.

The elderly professor of engineering clutched his chest in surprise as a man with jet black hair emerged from the shadows by the professor’s office. 

“I’m sorry….?” The professor stammered.

“I’m here to talk about John. John Deacon,” the man added when the professor starred blankly. Freddie barely restrained from rolling his eyes. What kind of teacher didn’t know their students’ names? “I am, of course, all for John graduating early, but not the expense of his health. He needs his rest, and we are very busy with the band. I am concerned if he can handle both the stress of work and extra studying.”

Professor Smyth found himself spending the next hour mapping out a very detailed plan for Mr. Deacon’s accelerated study that satisfied Mr. Mercury. He didn’t have the nerve to ask *why* this man had such an interest in the young engineering student. Perhaps there were distant relatives or such.

***

“No, that is not acceptable at all,” Freddie said firmly. “John already has 3 classes on Thursdays. Work him into the Tuesday group.”

The registrar meekly did as told.

***

“What do you mean, John has to attend 3 movies and write essays on them for this Fine Arts credit?” Freddie sneered. “Do you have any idea what we do every day?” He slapped down a review of their latest record. “John can write essays on three of our performances. End of discussion.”

The instructor gulped and made a note in their assignment book.

***

“A *project*?” Freddie looked honestly appalled. “I will have Brian and Roger bring by the Deacy amp tomorrow. It’s all you need to see, trust me. Now, what’s this about a final assignment? What are the requirements? I am sure my boy has it lying about the flat already. How soon can he turn it in and be done with it?”

***

Freddie returned to the flat with a very satisfied look on his face. “Alright, my dear. I think we have it all figured out.”

“Have what figured out?” John asked from the living room where he was playing with a ball.

“Your class schedules. Now, don’t worry, my dear. There are really very few changes and of course I will walk you through it and take you to and from class until you get used to the schedule. Brian, Roger, loves; you need to take a Deacy amp to some professor…..I forget his name….very cross looking fellow in the engineer lab tomorrow. Don’t forget to bring it back; we need it for Friday night. Now, John, dear, where is that hair flat iron that Brian still keeps around? I know you modified it. That is now worth half your credit in this class so we can cross that off. Also, we need to write an essay about last weekend’s performance. Isn’t it time to get ready for bed? Remember, it’s a school night. Oh, and I stopped by the student cafeteria. They agree that cheese on toast is a good lunch and will start serving it next week. But be sure to get a serving of vegetables. And milk.” Freddie put an arm around John and guided him to the bedrooms, still chatting.

“Do we even want to know?” Roger asked Brian.

“Nope,” Brian sighed. “Parents are just….odd…at times.”

“Freddie more so than others,” Roger muttered.

“Agreed.”


	5. Bedtime Routine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From a prompt by HCShannon: Stuff like putting him to bed, swaddling him in blankets, then reading him a story.

John liked routine, and had had a self-imposed bedtime since he was a youngster. He adjusted it a little as he got older, but not by a lot. Really the only exceptions were gigs that ran late or the occasional study sessions. But he was good about budgeting his time, and except for a performance, he was rarely up past his bedtime.

Especially with Freddie around.

The singer had two modes and schedules when it came to John’s bedtime- at home, and on tour. When at home, it was pretty easy to keep John on his schedule; recording sessions simply ended when it was time to head home so John would have time to properly unwind and relax. His usual bedtime was around 11:00, depending on the schedule for the next day.

But when on tour, it was a lot more difficult. The more successful Queen became, the longer the after parties tended to go. Sometimes the show wasn’t even done until after 10:00, and then the party was going strong until the wee hours of the night. It could take hours for John to settle down after a good show.

So Freddie learned to play it largely by ear, although he always aimed for around 1:00 am when they had another show the next day. Midnight would be better, he fretted, but it was seldom realistic. The best Freddie could do was insist that parties were always at their hotel, so all he had to do was get John tucked in bed upstairs, and then he could easily return to the festivities. Clubbing was reserved for nights when they didn’t have a show the following day and John was allowed to stay up later.

People often wondered where Freddie had disappeared to, and Brian and Roger would just shrug. It was usually assumed that he had gone off with someone, and truth was, he had. It was just he had gone with John, and not a party person.

“I’m not tired,” John fussed. 

“Yes, you are,” Freddie said. He started running a bath and made sure to add John’s favorite bubbles and bath salts. They’d all had showers just a few hours earlier at the venue, but Freddie knew a bath would settle John the quickest. He heard the tinkling of the mini-fridge and frowned.

“John, no more drinking,” he said firmly, going out the living room area. Sure enough, John was just about the pull the tab on a can of beer. 

“One more?” John pleaded, using his puppy eyes. Fortunately, Freddie was immune to puppy eyes.

“Decaf tea,” Freddie said sternly. He started the kettle and picked out a chamomile blend. John huffed, but accepted the cup when it was ready and stomped off to the bathroom.  


“Wash behind your ears,” Freddie called. John muttered something in return, waving his hand.

Freddie got the bedroom ready for his son, making sure the temp was set to how John liked it and fluffing the pillows. They were sharing a two bedroom suite, Freddie’s favorite set up when on tour as it enabled him to keep on eye on his boy, and he was nearby if John had a nightmare. The fact that John seldom had nightmares didn’t matter to the singer; he needed to be close just in case. 

John emerged from the bath dressed in his favorite Disney pajamas and Freddie barely resisted the urge to take a photo; Deaky was just too cute for words. Of course it was also pretty funny to see John in a Disney shirt and his mouse ears, chugging a beer. Freddie allowed John to drink only on special occasions and finding a new Disney shirt had been rated a suitable event.

“Did you take your vitamins and medicine?”

“Yes, Freddie.”

“Good, good.”

Freddie tucked John into bed, fussing to find a channel on the television that would give some noise but not be annoying. Anything violent was of course not allowed, and the news could be distressing. Freddie finally found a nature documentary that looked suitably boring and adjusted the volume so it was just enough for some slight background noise. John was already yawning, pleasantly relaxed after his bath and having drank just enough to be sleepy without being drunk. “Alright dear boy, I will be back soon. Just call to the front desk if you need anything.”

“I’m fine,” John protested mildly.

“Of course you are,” Freddie murmured reassuringly. He continued to tuck the sheets and blankets firmly under the mattress until John was practically pinned to the bed, swaddled securely. “Do you want a story?”

“No,” John wrinkled his nose. “The television is fine.”

“Alright.” Freddie kissed his forehead. “Glass of water is on the nightstand. The light is on in the bathroom. I’ll leave the door to my bedroom open. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Freddie.”

John waited a few minutes to make sure Freddie was gone, and then started the struggle to get free. Tonight wasn’t too bad; some nights John swore that Freddie had tied him to the bed. He managed to get his arms free and from there it was easy.

John fetched his beer from the mini frig, and flipped through the channels until he came to the pay-for-view section. Umm…..”Hot Tub University: Bikini’s gone wild.” Sounded interesting.


	6. Breakdown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John didn’t ask for much. Just one little thing after a horrible day. And when he’s not happy, Papa isn’t happy….
> 
> "John Richard Deacon Mercury, unlock the door this instant, young man!" His full name. John was in serious trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From a prompt by Bella: Maybe John throwing a tantrum?? Or getting super overwhelmed???

John handed his autism well. He knew what bothered him, and worked hard to avoid it. Of course, in the career he had found himself in, it was hard to avoid stress and noise was 100% part of the deal. But he could usually block things out when Freddie, Brian, and Roger were having an epic argument (he knew they wouldn’t actually hurt each other). He could block out the chaos from a typical sound check. Audiences screaming were part of the deal, and once he got over his stage fright, he was able to concentrate on the music and truthfully didn’t usually even notice a crowd until the show was over. 

And all the other things as well, he could usually tolerate. Reporters yelling questions, cameras in his face, a different hotel nearly every night. Freddie, Brian, and Roger shielded him as much as they could, and John did his breathing exercises and usually all was well.

Usually.

The problem was when everything happened at once, or everything that could go wrong did go wrong. Sometimes, there was a simple straw that broke the bassist’s back.

And Hell hath no fury like Mama Bear Freddie, backed up by Big Brothers Brian and Roger.

The plane had been delayed, making them have to go directly to the auditorium for sound check. John hated flying to begin with, and it was worse when they had sat on the plane for an hour, unable to disembark because of a back log at the gate. Then it was the Sound Check from Hell, with everything possible going wrong. John could have done a better job with the electronics when he was eight, and none of the venue staff would listen to him or let him try to fix it.

They were supposed to have dinner at the hotel and John had been looking forward to the time to relax, but they had to stay at the venue because everything was running late. The last-minute caterer had done a very good job, but there wasn’t a toaster or slices of cheese in sight, so no cheese on toast tonight.

He had really wanted cheese on toast. He hadn’t had it in *days*. At the hotels, they always seemed to have toast available from room service, but at the venue, it was plain white fluffy bread. The caterer had vegetarian for Brian, roasted meat for Roger, and some spicy curry for Freddie that made John’s stomach hurt just to look at it. But no toast or cheese.

What the Hell?

Maybe he could write a song about it. *oooh, you make me live. You’re my best friend; cheese on toast* Or maybe *can anybody find meeee….soooooome, some cheese on toast….*

Okay, he recognized the signs when he was obsessing. Didn’t make it any easier.

He got through the concert well enough despite the new lights and pyrotechnics, which he didn’t really like, visions of cheese on toast dancing in his head and keeping him steady. They were playing the same venue the next night, so the plan was to go back to the hotel and sleep in. John was confident he could score cheese on toast at some point, maybe even at the after party (it wouldn’t be the oddest thing Queen had asked room service or the hotel concierge for, after all).

But no, it all had to go to Hell. The after party was a disaster. Hotel in process of renovations and nothing working. Someone (John was pretty sure it was Ratty) had told the hotel as a joke that Queen had become Vegan non-drinkers, and the only thing at the tables was water and raw veggies (even Brian was bitching about the lack of alcohol and protein).

And John became overwhelmed. 

He didn’t want to cause a scene. So he locked himself in a bathroom off the ballroom where the party was being held.

“John?” Freddie was knocking on the door during within minutes, always keeping an eye on John during parties. “What is wrong, darling?”

“Go away!” John wasn’t in the mood to deal with anything. He had his hands over his ears and was sitting on the floor, rocking.

“John, open the door this instant. We’ve talked about this before, young man. We don’t lock doors.”

That was true, a rule that Freddie had made the day John moved in with the band. Roger was the only one who was allowed a locked door, and only when he had someone for the night because Freddie was afraid of John being traumatized by what he might see. Freddie said it was a safety issue; he want to be able to reach John at all times, especially when he was having difficulty.

“I don’t want anyone to see anyone!” John yelled. He knew logically he was in a loop now that was just getting worse and worse, but he couldn’t help it. Locking himself away was just making the scene bigger and bigger.

There was a murmur of voices. “John!” Roger yelled. Oh great, John thought, now his brothers could be witness to his humiliation. “I swear I will break down this door. Unlock it now.”

“I don’t want anyone to see me!” 

“Darling, they won’t if you unlock the door now. We’ll all go upstairs together. Unlock. This. Door. Now!”

John just rocked more, and kicked the wall. “No!”

“John Richard Deacon Mercury,” Freddie said firmly, and Oh, Shit. John knew he was in trouble when it was his full name. Well, not really his full name…it was even worse. “I am going to count to 5, and the door better be unlocked by then, young man. One!”

Tears were welling up now. “It’s stupid,” John tried. He was embarrassed now. “I’ll be fine. Just let me be.”

“Dear, nothing is stupid if its effecting you. Talk to us. Two!”

“I just wanted…..” he stopped, unable to continue.

“What do you need, darling? But I am not stopping the count. If I get to five, Roger is going to break down the door. Three!”

Shit, he was doomed. 

“Four!”

John kicked the door, and then reach up to unlock it.

Freddie shoved his way in, and thank God, shut the door behind him so no one else could see John’s humiliation. A grown man, sitting on the floor of a bathroom, crying because he didn’t have cheese on toast.

“Darling, what is wrong?” Freddie was all mother hen mode now, clearly brooding as he gathered John into his arms. “I know its been a stressful day, dear. Is that what’s upset you? You know you can tell any of us if things get to be too much for you at any time.”

“I was alright,” John sniffed. “But—” he trailed off again.

“What, dear? Tell me.” Freddie had a hand on John’s chin, making the younger man look at him.

“I wanted….cheese on toast,” John confessed.

Freddie, Bless him, didn’t even blink. “Well of course,” he said calmly. “It’s your favorite food. They didn’t have it at the venue?”

“No,” John felt like he was whining, but Freddie was listening intently. “Not there and not here, either.”

“Fuck!” Contrary to popular belief, Freddie did listen to some of Brian’s speeches about vegetarianism, and understanding dawned. “No cheese – milk, and no bread - eggs.”

John nodded. “No toaster even if there was,” he added. “And, and…noise. And crowds. And the new sound and lights.” He didn’t need to elaborate. Freddie was finely attuned to what could affect John.

“Those bastards,” Freddie snared. He gathered John in a fierce hug. “Don’t worry. We will get you set up right away. Let’s go upstairs where its nice and quiet and dark, and you can take a nice bath and eat. In fact, let’s get Brian and Roger for a sleep over? Does that sound nice?”

“I just want cheese on toast,” John said in a small voice.

“And you shall have it!” Freddie stood, pulling John up with him. He opened the door, and thankfully it was only Roger and Brian who were present.

“We are all going upstairs,” Freddie said firmly. “Fuck this dead party. We are going to have a movie night and order in cheese on toast. And if the hotel doesn’t have it, send I am sending Ratty to Hell *after* he finds a market and makes cheese on toast.”

“Sounds good to me,” Brian immediately said. They all knew about John’s possible triggers and how he needed the comfort of familiarity. 

“Yeah, its been a pisser of a day,” Roger agreed. “I mean, the Hell? Vegan non-drinkers? What the Fuck? Brian, are you *sure* you didn’t say something?”

“Screw you, Rog. You know I would never say non-drinker. And whoever thought Vegan means only raw veggies is stupid. Mammals can’t survive without some type of protein, and that’s a fact.”

Forty minutes later, John was in bed, calmed by a lavender bath, and clad in his favorite pajamas. Brian and Roger, now in their own pajamas, had gathered the contents of all their stocked mini-bars (including Ratty’s), and were mixing drinks while Freddie answered the door for room service in one of his elegant robes. He had screamed on the phone for five minutes about the Vital Importance of Cheese on Toast, and given strict instructions on how to prepare it. He had threatened to come down to the kitchens to make it himself it he wasn’t satisfied with what was delivered.

Then he called rooms and screamed at members of their crew, making damn sure they all ensured in the future that cheese on toast was 100% available at all times.

And booze. 

He also threatened Ratty in vivid detail about what would happen if he ever again messed with the availability of cheese on toast. And booze. In fact, Ratty was now officially in charge of providing cheese on toast at the snap of Freddie’s fingers, and Ratty was truly terrified at the threats that made been made. He went back to his room to write a formal apology to John, and may or may not have found a church to pray in for forgiveness and asked a priest for penance. 

Freddie had, of course, made sure that John was in the bathtub with the door closed and water running so he couldn’t hear the threats he had made. He was rather strict about foul language used in front of his son.

Thank God, room service rose to the occasion and provided booze, real food, and yes, Cheese On Toast.

Freddie fixed John a plate and handed it over to the young man, who eagerly accepted it. Everyone settled on the bed and they turned on a movie. John didn’t care what it was and he suspected that no one did. What was important was that they were together.

“We are going to have another talk tomorrow about locked doors, young man,” Freddie said sternly as he wiped John’s hands.

“Yes, Freddie,” John said meekly. 

“And you are grounded for the rest of the week. Not because you were upset, darling; that happens, and its fine. Never apologize when you need space and quiet. But you knew not to lock the door. I’m not mad; I’m disappointed.”

“I’m sorry, Freddie.”

He felt bad about having a break down over food, but thankfully his family still accepted him. John still wanted to write a song.

*another toast bites the dust. And another one’s gone, and another one’s gone. Hey! I’m gonna get me some…cheese on toast!”


	7. Zooday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From a prompt by mtnsam: Maybe you can do one where they take him to Disney or a zoo? :D

John generally did not like crowds. Ironic, he knew, given his profession. But crowds at concerts didn’t bother him too much. He knew he was protected on stage by his band mates and their crew and the crowd couldn’t actually get to him. (Actually, his most reoccurring nightmare was him falling off the stage into a crowd. Freddie could always tell when he’d had that nightmare and would get him some warm milk and sing until he managed to go back to sleep).

Where John really hated crowds was in public places. Stores, restaurants, overcrowded clubs, etc…. There was a reason he ordered a lot of room service on tour and was pretty choosy about what clubs he would remain at. Crowds were just too overwhelming. So much chaos. So much talking. But he was usually okay.

He was also a fully functioning, highly capable adult. Freddie thought he was about 13, but John knew he meant no harm in it, and John was usually content to let Freddie have his harmless delusion. It was annoying, to be sure, but there were lots of benefits such as sweets and not having to worry about picking out clothes. It was easier to just let Freddie lay out clothing for events and all John had to be concerned with was casual day wear. 

And even though John didn’t like crowds, he had a few exceptions, and there were times when his tolerance of a crowd was made even better when Freddie had woken up convinced that John needed a fun trip.

Like when Freddie decided to take John to the zoo.

“John, darling, I have a surprise for you!” Freddie cheered one morning at breakfast. “There is a new mammal habitat at the zoo and we are going today!”

“Wow, that’s great,” John said happily. He loved going to the zoo and seeing all the amazing animals. 

“Now, eat a big breakfast, because I am not letting you fill up on too many sweets,” Freddie warned, putting a plate of toast and oatmeal in front of his son. “We can get a treat at the end.”

An hour later, after Freddie had packed a bag with sunscreen and made sure John had a hat, they headed off to the London zoo. John was more than willing to put up with crowds there in order to see the animals.

“Remember,” Freddie said, going over the rules when on outings as they rode in the taxi. “You stay with me, don’t wander away.”

“I know Freddie.”

“If you get lost, find a zoo worker – they all have uniforms and name badges – and we meet at the nearest security station.”

“Okay.”

“Drink a lot of water; it’s very humid.”

“I will.”

“Do you have our phone number memorized if you get lost and security asks you?”

John tilted his head a bit. “Do *you*?”

Freddie shook a finger in mild amusement. “No back talk. Do you know our phone number?”

“Yes, Freddie, I promise.”

“You don’t go anywhere with strangers, *especially* if they have candy.”

“I remember our talks about stranger danger, Freddie.” Really, John was about to toss Freddie out of the cab and go to the zoo himself, but he knew it would hurt the singer’s feelings and he would never do that.

They lined up for tickets at the automatic tellers, and John rolled his eyes when Freddie purchased one adult and one teen. While Freddie was distracted, John discreetly and quickly purchased another adult ticket, ready to slip it into the gate attendants’ hand. He dealt with this quite a lot, and had gotten rather good at secretly buying the proper adult ticket. 

It didn’t hurt to allow Freddie his little delusions. 

They toured the new exhibit and had lunch at a picnic area, Freddie fussing and making sure John had more sunscreen applied to his face. Freddie also bought John another stuffy, and John just smiled, happily carrying the large stuffed tiger. They mutually decided to name him Simba.

After lunch, they ended up at the best part of all; the petting zoo. John was glad he and Freddie weren’t the only adults in the area without kids. There was nothing wrong in childless adults wanting to pet the animals too.

John looked over at Freddie, who was talking nonsense to a baby llama. Ummm…..maybe he did have a child.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From a prompt by Wiggles91: How about when Autistic John wrote his first song about his wife Veronica "You're my best friend." And he is very scared to show it to his wife and to the boys because he thinks it's not good enough. So the boys bring Veronica to Rockfield Studios to help him with the song with encouragement from Freddie.

John had never considered himself a ‘songwriter’. He freely admitted he was sort of an accidental up and coming rock star. Had he set out to be a star like Freddie or Roger? Nope. Had he been determined to be a song poet and performer like Brian? Not at all. He had quite frankly auditioned for Queen because his father liked music and John’s therapist had insisted that he try to get out more.

And look where it had landed him.

In a very powerful up and coming band. With records released and more on the horizon. John just wanted cheese on toast and to play music, and yeah, he wanted Veronica. So sue him. He may be autistic, but he knew a lady when he saw one, and Veronica was all that and smart, and talented, and beautiful and just simply amazing. 

And he was just plain John.

Veronica was SO out of his league. As was Queen. John kept thinking that everyone would wake up one day and realize it. But no.

Brian and Roger went out of their way to make John feel comfortable and part of the band. Every tiny bit he contributed was welcomed and applauded. 

Veronica was simply….amazing. John honestly could not find words to describe what she meant to him. And this was from someone who thought he would never be loved, and really, truly, had not set out to find it. He was convinced that love was a nice feeling, but not one for him. Sure, someone people had had true love, and John respected and admired that. But it surely wasn’t for him. He wasn’t sure he would even *know* was love was.

And then he had met Veronica. At a disco, of all places.

And Freddie, the other most important person in his life after his Mum, sister, and Veronica, had done nothing but endorse Veronica. John had no choice but to put his worries aside, and trust in his Dad….er….he meant, Freddie.

And that had been a huge source of John’s nerves. He kept telling Veronica that he was different, and she just kept on smiling. Okay, she was training to be a teacher, and John figured that she had to put on that smile. But after a while he really began to suspect that she truly did understand, and did not judge him for it.

When he had to do certain routines to be comfortable, she just nodded, and even *helped* him. When he didn’t know what to do in a social situation, she was beside him, always smiling and gently helping him, acting as if his nerves were perfectly normal, and politely, sweetly, deadly, daring anyone to say otherwise.

If Freddie was his would-be-Dad, then Veronica was his would-be-Mum….but in a good sense. Not kinky or weird. It was really like his….wife….John finally realized.

Thank goodness he had the presence of mind to say Yes when she proposed to him.

Freddie for once was totally silent on the subject- just beaming with pride - but for the rest of his life, John suspected that Veronica had gone to Freddie and asked permission for his hand in marriage.

John didn’t lie…..he felt quite flattered and more than a bit woozy at the notion.

And the fact that Freddie always referred to John and Veronica’s children as his ‘Pautrō’ made John smile. He guessed they really were. Lord knew they would not have been born without Freddie’s encouragement. John would have been the virgin-in-a-rock-band if it wasn’t for Freddie giving him a pep talk and then shoving him in Veronica’s direction.

And Veronica. She was a wise, wise, woman of wisdom. Never underestimate her. John didn’t. He learned to just say “yes, dear,” and do as she said. It made life much simpler and happier. She was never wrong when it came to them. Thank God he could rely on her.

What was that saying? You could pick your friends, but not your family? In his down moments, John guessed that his band mates had to put up with him since they were family. But Veronica?

She *let* him sleep with her. On a number of occasions. Touch her inappropriately.

John was truly grateful.

And he was grateful when she showed up at Rockfield studio with a big smile and all her gentle strength.

“Play them your song,” she said gently.

“What? No!” he protested. It was crap, truly. He had just been messing around with notes and words. It wasn’t a *song*.

“Darling,” Freddie said, “Veronica already shared some of it with me. You simply MUST play it now.”

John shot Veronica a dark look, and she just smiled as usual. Okay, it was the sign that John was being ridiculous and he needed to go along with whatever she wanted.

“It’s dumb,” John muttered. “I mean the words, but it’s…..silly.” He wasn’t romantic. He didn’t know how to say things in actual conversations, let alone in a song. And now Brian, the lyrics specialist was smiling at him, and Roger, who could put words together almost as well as Brian was grinning in encouragement.

John frowned a little at Veronica….had she told the band? She smiled, and he sighed, knowing she had. Well, she did know best.

He went over to the piano and nervously ran his hands over the keys, trying to warm up. “I wanted to write a song for Veronica,” he mumbled. “But you know I’m dreadful with words. This is all I could come up with.” He cleared his throat, and reluctantly started to play.

Ohh, you make me live…You’re my best friend…

When he was done, Brian pulled him up into a hug before John could start making excuses about how bad a song it was. Then Roger was hugging him as well, and Freddie pulled Veronica into the group.

“Perfect!” Freddie was saying over and over. “It’s perfect!”

“John, you’re secret has been uncovered. We need more of your songs!” Brian said happily.

“I’m about ready to cry,” Roger joked, but by his smile and hug, John knew Roger was also pretty serious. “I can’t wait to play it.”

And Veronica just smiled, proud of her husband. She had known all along that he could do it. He just needed support and encouragement.

And his family would always make sure he had that. 

*****  
Pautrō – Grandchildren


	9. I remember it all

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From a prompt by Bella: John has Highly Superior Autobiographical Memory (HSAM). Yes, it’s a real thing where he remembers *everything*. Yes, it can be a pain.

John was not consciously aware of it, but he had a video camera in his head. All he knew was that he had an excellent memory. He had used to think that everyone did, but around starting secondary school he had realized he was different in more ways than one. If it happened to him, he could remember it. He could recall with perfect clarity almost every single day of his life. What he wore, what he ate that day, what he did. Recall verbatim what he said and what people said to him. Ask him about the local weather on Saturday, the 14th of August 1965, and he could tell you.

He tried to keep it quiet and for the most part succeeded. He didn’t brag about it, of course, and tried to stay silent even when someone was very wrong about what they were claiming and John knew it. It did actually came in handy at times, such as when his mum asked what they had served for tea or dinner when the family last came over, or what presents had been given at the holidays five years ago. And obviously his memory helped with school work. He figured it was a photographic memory, and just let it go. Whatever it was, it seemed to work.

The first time Queen was aware of it was when Freddie was fussing about what to wear for their next performance a few months after John had joined the band.

“Did I wear the black or the brown shirt last week?” Freddie screamed frantically. God forbid he wear the same outfit two weeks in a row.

“Black,” Brian said.

“Brown?” Roger guessed.

“Are you sure?” Freddie was going nuts.

John sighed and looked up from his bass. “You wore both,” he said calmly. “The black shirt at the start, and then changed into the brown shirt during the break. With the silver scarf and black boots.”

All three were looking at him, and John nervously looked back down at his guitar. “He’s right,” Freddie finally said. “I sort of remember now.” He beamed and hugged John. “Thank you, darling. You are in now in charge of my wardrobe.”

Bit by bit, the band began to realize just how much John could remember. Brian conducted a test on him, quizzing him about weather, and John was never wrong. Brian quickly determined that John could only remember things that he had done, said, saw or did. 

“It has to be personal to you,” Brian mussed on a long drive. “Something that you saw, or heard, or did. Like how you can remember the Scrabble score of a game that you played, but not one that you didn’t play or see. It’s an…..autobiographical memory.”

“So Roger is not the only one who is self-centered,” Freddie teased. Roger easily flipped him the bird from the driver’s seat.

“It’s a pain,” John said shyly. “I keep worrying that my brain will get full, or something.”

“Even the most intelligent person only uses an estimated 10-20% of their brain,” Brian mussed. “Even as smart as you are, I don’t think it will get full.”

“You can borrow some of Roger’s brain,” Freddie offered. “He’s not using it.”

“Shut up, Freddie.”

The band quickly learned how to put John’s memory to good use (Brian ruling that John being responsible for remembering Freddie’s and Roger’s wardrobes was not a good use, but still, it happened). There was a reason John took charge of band finances as he never forgot a thing that was said or written. He made even the nastiest of record producers unnerved by reciting what they had worn and drank at every meeting and knew to the penny what was spent.

“I am so proud of you,” Freddie beamed after one meeting where John quietly, humbly, tore a manager to bits. “By the way, what did I wear to the club last week?”

“I wasn’t there, so I don’t know,” John said wearily. “I keep reminding you that you have to either take a picture and show me, or tell me, or write it down if you want me to remember that.”

“My baby computer,” Freddie cooed, pinching John’s cheeks.

“Stop that,” John muttered. “Or I won’t tell you what you wore at the last concert and let you wear the same thing over and over.”

“Shit, don’t scare me like that darling!”

Even Brian was guilty of using John at times. “John, did this restaurant have vegetarian options?”

“You had the garden salad and mushroom soup,” John said. He didn’t need to look at the menu. “I had the hamburger, Freddie had the fish and chips, and Roger the roast beef.”

“Did we like it?” Roger asked.

John sighed. “I guess?” he said. “No one complained.”

“Great! Order for us, would you? I’m going to have a smoke.”

Roger wanted to know totally random things, such as how many sugars had he put in his coffee six months ago, and how many dates he’d had two years ago at Easter. But he was good about seldom ‘abusing’ John’s memory – better than Freddie and Brian, actually. He just occasionally wanted to know odd stuff. John figured they were all entitled to have their brains work in different ways and if Roger really needed to know what he had for breakfast on the fifth of last month, John was willing to tell him if he knew.

John learned to balance things. He had to have things a certain way, a routine no matter how difficult it was on tour, and his brothers did all they could to help. Anyone who crossed John in any way was first politely torn apart verbally by the bassist and then kicked out by Roger and Freddie while Brian loomed. Some wondered why the other three deferred to the quiet bassist for so much, but Freddie, Brian and Roger never said a thing. 

He was their secret weapon, and they protected what was theirs.


	10. Stepdad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From a prompt by LadyOfLoriens: Maybe you could write something about Freddie meeting Jim? A second dad for our baby John? 
> 
> Note: In this universe, Freddie does not have AIDS.

“How do you feel about children?” Freddie asked Jim as they returned to Freddie’s home after their official second date. Freddie was ready to scream to the world that he loved this man.

The Irishman smiled. “I love them,” he admitted. “I didn’t know you had any. I would love to meet them.”

“Just one son, John,” Freddie beamed. “How about we all have dinner together Tuesday?”

Jim chuckled as he kissed Freddie. “Sure. How old is he?”

“He’s just a child,” Freddie sighed. “But thinks he’s a grown up. It’s so cute.”

*****  
*****

“Well, you are a little older than I expected,” Jim said cheerfully. 

“Oh God.” John sighed. “How old did he tell you I was?”

Jim shrugged. “He didn’t really say,” he mussed thoughtfully. “For some reason, I was picturing a 10-year-old.”

“I’m adopted,” John said dryly, taking a long drink.

Freddie appeared like magic and took the glass from John’s hand. “Now, Deaky, I said you could have a glass of wine with dinner, not before.”

“Its not wine, it’s vodka,” John said.

The singer stiffened. “Who gave you this?” he demanded. “Phoebe?”

“I brought the bottle with me as a gift, Freddie. I purchased it from a store.”

“With a fake ID?” Freddie shrieked. “Where did you get that from?”

“Its not fake, I keep telling you.”

“John Richard Deacon Mercury----” Freddie began to rant.

John looked at Jim. “Ignore him, it’s easier that way.”

“Ignore what? Is someone selling to underaged kids?” Jim was starting to look pissed. “Did you get pressured into buying?”

John blinked, a shiver going down his spine. “Jim, look, here’s my drivers license. Look at the date of birth. Please.”

“So many fakes out there,” Jim shook his head. “No wonder Freddie worries about you so much. So many bad influences.”

“I play in the band! I have since I was 19, which I am *not* anymore! Look at the date, Hell, look at me! I’m not a kid!”

“Don’t listen to him, dear,” Freddie said to Jim. “He’s acting out. He’s at that age, I’m afraid. Questioning authority.”

“I understand,” Jim smiled at Freddie, hearts in his eyes. “I can see why you are so protective of him.

“Jesus, I should have known,” John grumbled to Phoebe when the other man wandered into the room in search of booze.

“I like him,” Phoebe said seriously. “He’s a good guy, and I can tell Freddie is absolutely mad about him. I think they will be good for each other.” Phoebe reached out and patted John’s shoulder. “And he’ll be a good stepdad to you,” he teased.

“Shut up,” John muttered.

Dinner went well, until Freddie threatened to send John to bed without dessert, which led to John pointing out that he didn’t live there. Then Jim politely and innocently asked just how long John had been living on his own, which made Freddie feel like a bad parent. He dragged both Jim and John upstairs to show them ‘John’s bedroom’, proving that John did have a bedroom. John said he had only slept there twice (both when he was hungover after a party) and Freddie then really felt like a horrible parent, and Jim was going to leave him because he couldn’t be trusted and he was a dreadful person and he started to cry.

John and Jim both apologized. John ended up spending the night to prove to Jim that Freddie hadn’t thrown him out on the streets when he turned 18 (which, no matter how hard John to tried to convince Jim, had not been just a few months ago – he was in the 30’s for God’s sake), and Freddie calmed down enough to be happy.

Jim started referring to John as his ‘son’, and John knew he was doomed.


	11. Operation D-A-T-E

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From a prompt by Rogerina_Taylor:John going on a date. Freddie goes full mama bear mode. Maybe Freddie spies on their date or Roger or Brian.

Freddie stood in the center of the living room, tapping his foot. Nervous energy radiated off him.

“Jesus, Freddie, calm down,” Roger said from the couch.

“Calm down? Calm down? My baby is going on a D-A-T-E and you are telling me to calm down?”

Brian took a sip of beer. “Maybe because your baby is 20 years old and its high time he got out?”

“Yeah, even you had a date by age 21, Bri. I remember,” Roger smirked, and Brian hit his arm.

“My precious baby John is not you Brian, and – Thank God – not you, either, Roger. John is….special.” Freddie was about ready to tear his hair out.

“We’ve been tutoring him for weeks,” Brian said, trying to be logical. “He knows all about stranger danger and has memorized more than even I can say about safety. I’m surprised he is even willing to leave the flat, given all the scary stuff you have warned him about.”

“Yeah, I was about ready to live under the bed after your lecture this afternoon,” Roger volunteered.

“Hush!” Freddie hissed. “He’s coming out.”

John emerged from the bedroom dressed and groomed. Freddie fussed over him for a few minutes, adjusting a collar here, a jacket sleeve there. John looked amazing. *sniff* His baby was growing up.

“Now remember, don’t accept any drinks from strangers. Keep your ID in a separate place from your money.” Freddie was patting down John, making sure his directions had been followed. “You have phone numbers memorized, I know, but repeat them again.”

John sighed. “The phone here is 555—“he began. He kept reciting the numbers for local police, taxis, neighbors, and Scotland Yard. Freddie nodded in approval and made sure John had proper change for all calls.

“And the plan?” Freddie got out a piece of paper that had been carefully drawn up. Seriously, the Magna Carta had had less time in its drafting. Freddie, Brian, and Roger had all gone over it.

“7:45, leave apartment,” John began to recite again. “7:50, get in taxi that Brian has called for, but only *after* confirming the license plate.” Brian gave John a thumbs up. “Approximately 8:10, arrive disco. Call apartment to confirm my arrival from the pay phone out front before entering disco. Call you again from pay phone inside the disco once I have entered said disco. 8:20 meet Veronica at the bar, left side by the beer taps. Call again to confirm I am with Veronica. 8:20 – 11:30, dance. Three hours. I can have 2 beers, total, as can Veronica. Rest of time, order water. Keep glass in possession at all times. Do not accept drink offers. 9:30, order bar snacks. 11:30, call you before we exit disco. Approximately 11:40, call you once I have put Veronica in a taxi home. Include license plate of taxi. Approximately 11:42, I call you with license plate of taxi I am taking home. Should arrive home no later than 12:10. Make taxi driver stop and call if running late.”

“Good, good,” Freddie approved. He went to the bedroom to get a last-minute scarf for John and the bassist looked over at Brian and Roger. 

“12:30. Sneak out of apartment and go to Veronica’s to shag,” John muttered. Brian chocked on his beer and Roger beamed in approval.

Promptly at 7:45, John left, clutching a piece of paper with the taxi number on it. Freddie had wanted to walk him out to the curb, but finally decided it might a little much. Roger and Brian exchanged glances, knowing that *something* was going to happen.

At 8:00, Freddie jumped up. “Alright, boys, here is the plan. Brian, you stay here for the phone calls. Roger, you and I are going to disco.”

“For God’s sake Freddie,” Roger grumbled. “John is an adult---”

“You take that back!” Freddie gasped.

“And he can go on a date by himself. What do you honestly think is going to happen? They are going to the lamest disco in all of Europe – it opens at 7:00 and closes at midnight - and Veronica is a nice girl.”

“Roger, stop being a sexist pig. A woman can be just as frightening as any man; more so, in fact.”

“Are you saying Veronica is frightening and is going to assault John? Maybe kiss him?” Brian asked.

“Brian, I thank you to not use such foul language and say such scary horrible things concerning John. Roger, get your damn coat now. We are running behind.”

Fifteen minutes later, Freddie and Roger were in the shadows of the disco, spying on John and Veronica. Freddie may have frowned a bit at how *physical* some of the dancing was, but he certainly couldn’t cast stones. They called Brian every hour, confirming that John had called as directed and giving updates. Freddie grabbed a taxi at 11:30 so he could be home before John while Roger stayed behind on John and Veronica duty, memorizing taxi license plates and calling Brian to confirm. 

John arrived home to find Freddie and Brian relaxing while watching an old movie. Roger came in a few minutes later, saying he had gone on a last-minute date that ended early. It fooled no one.

At 12:30 AM, Roger gave another thumbs up to John as he quietly left the apartment. Freddie was in bed, asleep with dreams of his son innocently playing with kittens and stuffed animals.


	12. THE Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It had to happen sooner or later......

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Well, after a planned vacation, I had a totally unplanned car accident and hospital stay. Updates are slow right now, but I promise I am working on them, and prompts are still gratefully accepted. Thank you!

"John, dear, sit down. We need to have a talk." Freddie patted the kitchen chair across from him.

"Okay...." John tried to think if he had done anything lately to warrant a stern formal talk, but honestly couldn't think of anything. He'd been home by curfew, hadn't sneaked out, God knows he hadn't dated, smoked or drank in the past few days since Freddie had been extra clingy and keeping John in sight at most times.

Freddie smiled warmly. "This is a grown-up talk. You are getting to be a man, and it’s time we discussed some things, man to man."

Oh Shit. This could not possibly be......

"Now, you may have noticed certain changes in your body recently," Freddie began his lecture, and John wanted to die.

It wasn't being treated like a child; John was used to that by now. It was that he was scared to death that Freddie would give him more information than he wanted to know at present.

He needn't have worried.

"So, the process is called fertilization. And when the egg and sperm meet--"

For an hour, John listened to a lecture about literally about the birds and bees, and mammals, with only occasional references to humans thrown in. Freddie drew cute illustrations of cats as well, but nothing that Walt Disney wouldn't approve of. John wanted to keep one of the pictures showing a mama cat with three adorable kittens in a basket (and no mention of how the kittens were conceived other than "a mama and a dada kitty met").

John thought was he was actually going to survive, with the talk limited to profoundly basic terms, when Roger walked into the room to get beer from the frig.

"Ah, Roger, excellent," Freddie beamed. "You have a biology degree. Can you think of anything to be added?" He smiled at John. "I think poor John is embarrassed hearing this sort of stuff from me. But perhaps you can give a more objective medical perspective."

"Perspective on what?" Roger asked warily, popping open the can and taking a sip.

"Fertilization."

Roger chocked on his beer.

"Err, what?" he finally managed to stammer.

"John is growing up," Freddie said proudly, patting John's hand. "He's becoming a man."

John just looked at Roger frantically. HELP ME HELP ME HELP ME his eyes screamed.

Roger, damn him, the bastard, just grinned.

"Well, let's hear what you have covered so far," he said, taking an empty chair.

John made a note to kill Roger later.

Freddie launched into a recap, and Roger confirmed pollination and several other things. John had several fantasizes about how to kill Roger and hide his body. He had no doubt that he could do it easily. All he needed to find was a pig farm……

"So now, my dear," Freddie said 20 minutes later. "Do you have any questions?" Roger was smirking so hard, his face was about to split.

He should have kept his mouth shut, but John was so pissed he decided to sock it to both of them.

"Yeah, what about sex?" he asked.

Freddie gasped. "What?"

"Sex. You know, how the egg and sperm meet." He looked at Roger. "Tell me Roger, how do you manage to keep from 'fertilizing' all your dates? I bet you need a lot of condoms. Extra small, right?"

"John Richard Deacon Mercury," Freddie was looking quite upset. "Watch your language, young man. And apologize to Roger. That was very rude."

Roger's eyes were narrowed. "Excuse me?" he said in a pissed off tone. "Extra small?"

John just met his glare. "That's what I heard last weekend from your date." It wasn't true, but John figured he was entitled to push some buttons since Roger was witness to his latest embarrassment from Mama Bear Freddie. "She said that *everything* was fun size."

"John!" Freddie screeched. "Don't make me wash your mouth out with soap! Where did you learn this appalling language?"

"Here in this kitchen, making coffee for Roger's date while he puked in the bathroom and then yelled at me to add condoms to the shopping list."

"Roger? Are you bringing girls home? Didn't we discuss how this was a poor example for John?" Thank God, Freddie's ire had turned on the drummer.

While Freddie and Roger screamed at each other, John slipped away. He went to the college campus to run some errands, smoked a few cigarettes, met a lovely young girl at the dining hall, and had a very nice time at her apartment that evening.

When he returned home, he was grounded.


	13. Disco Brother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From a prompt by Wiggles91, who wrote: “Do we get see his Disco dancing? Cause after all he is the "Dancing Queen" ABBA song”. Well, this isn’t quite what you requested, but I hope its okay!

There was little on the outside to advertise it, but John loved to dance. He sort of put responsibility on his late father, who had instilled a love of all things music in him. The quiet young man who was studying engineering and just happened to be a rock band also loved to dance.

So sue him. John cared what friends and family thought of him, of course, and was likely never going to get over his natural shyness, but he didn’t care what strangers thought when he was dancing. It was fun, he liked it, and it certainly didn’t harm anyone, so that was that.

The problem was finding time and opportunity to dance.

When Queen was starting out and playing bars, he was *in* the band, so that eliminated dance opportunities unless they found the occasional all-night bar with another band or DJ music. In those cases, John was all over that and was out and dancing (yes, please). That was how his band brothers and his would-be papa discovered his secret passion.

“Looking good, Deaky,” Roger said with a huge grin as John returned to their table when the DJ took a break. Roger and several rotating ladies had joined John and his importune dance partner on the dance floor during the evening. 

Brian smiled and gently clasped John on the shoulder. “You really do look great. Good dancing,” he said happily. Brian always knew what to say and do to make you feel encouraged.

Freddie frowned.

“Do you know that girl you were dancing with?” he asked, his tone rather sharp as John sat back down beside him.

“Um….no?” John admitted.

“So she just *picked you up* here?” Freddie demanded. Brian, Roger, and all three of Roger’s rotating dates for the evening were looking between Freddie and John carefully. “Don’t know if I approve of that.”

“I…..guess she did?” John said, frantically looking at the others for help.

“Her name is Melanie,” one of Roger’s ladies said helpfully, seeing John’s non-verbal pleas and quickly coming to his rescue. “I know her from school. She is really nice and sweet. She loves your band.” John decided that he definitely needed to give the ladies backstage passes at their next show.

Freddie sniffed, not impressed. “She was rather….handsy,” he huffed. 

Another woman coughed delicately. “I wouldn’t think much of it,” she tried to deflect. “It was crowded on the dance floor. John was just trying to keep her from being knocked around, and she grabbed him for balance. I’m sure she didn’t mean anything of it. He was being a complete gentleman.”

“Well, that is good, of course,” Freddie fretted. “But are you *sure* she didn’t try anything? John is just a *child*, after all. I should go talk to her.”

“No!” Everyone at the table yelled.

*****

“Oh my God,” John snarked twenty minutes later, taking a hit from a usually forbidden cigarette. “He’s like, ‘Get off the dance floor’. And I’m like, ‘Get off my ass’.”

“Jesus, and I thought I had it bad,” a girl sitting next to John commented, nodding her head in thanks as John passed the cigarette to her. “I have five older brothers, but this Freddie really takes the cake.” John and a group of ladies had gathered outside the bar, in an unofficial girls-only patio area that the good-hearted bounces strictly enforced (they all had little sisters, and were very protective of the women). John had been allowed in based on testimony from a number of ladies stating that he needed some time with them and their help. Every female in the bar really felt for the auburn bassist and wanted to help.

“Are you positive Freddie is, umm ….” asked a brunette girl. She sighed as John nodded, giving her a look. “Okay, fair enough,” she conceded. “I don’t mean to try to fish off another person’s dock. So, let’s at least get *you* laid, right? No offense, John, but you are only a man, and can only go so long without.”

“God, I love you,” John told them all sincerely. He truly appreciated their understanding. 

“Right then, ladies,” declared a blond woman. “You three have Roger. Cleo, Barbara, you two take Brian and remember to talk about the stars. Amy?”

“Already have a call into my brother!” Amy replied. “He’ll be here in 5 minutes and is totally happy to get a hand – and more - on Freddie.”

“My cousin Liam is coming too,” added a helpful girl. “He can be back up, just in case.”

“Good, good,” Lisa appraised. “Meanwhile, John – you call Veronica. The rest of us will distract the lot of them. We have it under control.”

“I love you all,” John repeated honestly. “For the rest of your lives, backstage passes to all Queen shows.”

*****

In the coming years, Freddie, Brian, and Roger sometimes marveled at the number of female friends that John had. Whenever they played in England, John demanded – and received – a number of backstage passes and all sorts of other freebies for a core group of ladies that he simply called “his sisters”. The fact that nearly all of them were Godmothers to John and Veronica’s children was totally overlooked by the rest of the band.

They were only men, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> End Notes: What do you think? Would you like more snippets in this little universe? **I take Prompts for this universe!** You can comment below or message me at Tumblr “MacandLacysPlace” with requests. 
> 
> Rules: may be gen, m/f, or m/m, but never explicit. Fluff! Austic!John will factor in on occasion. NO AGE PLAY or Infantilism; just pure fun and silliness. Great thanks again to LetMeEntertainYou. 
> 
> Upcoming stories: Grandparents Day :-) Will John ever be allowed to date? Or drink?? Or drive??? (Papa doesn't drive, so why should his son?)


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